


Rage: The Rising

by static_abyss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Aromantic Lydia Martin, Aromantic Malia Tate, Asexual Character, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Girls with Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Minor Character Death, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The werewolf above Malia goes limp against her, blood seeping through Malia's shirt and jeans. She shoves the wolf's body off her, reins in her transformation, and jumps up. She spins, ready to fight, when she catches sight of the black BMW. Kira hangs out of the open back door, gun in hand.</p><p>"Come with me if you want to live," Kira grins.</p><p>Malia glances back at the wolf behind her, her own blood soaked clothing, back at the car. </p><p>Then, she runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage: The Rising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyxelestia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/gifts).



> For nyxelestia @ tumblr. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I know it's not actually a space au, but I am tricky and misleading that way. Surprise! Hope you have a great day and happy valentine's day :D
> 
> Please see the bottom for more detailed descriptions about the tags/warnings.

Malia hates being behind the counter of the bakery on Valentine’s Day, because it means that she has to work twice as hard as she does on other days. Not to mention that every time she wraps chocolate covered strawberries for someone, they always wink at her like she should be in on whatever secret the whole world has going. Even her boss, Laura Hale, had winked this morning when Malia had asked to leave early.

"Got a hot date, huh?" Laura had asked.

Malia hadn't wanted to say that Netflix was releasing a new superhero series, and she needed the extra hours to watch the whole season before her shift tomorrow. Now, as she's standing behind the counter, next to the rows of pink, white, and red colored cookies and cakes, she wishes she'd told Laura that she couldn't come in today. But the clock across from Malia says she has less than an hour before she can go home so she resigns herself to her fate. 

She unties her hair, and pulls off the black apron with _Hale Bakery_ sewn in white thread across the front. Malia leans against the counter, her eyes sweeping lazily over the light wooden tables, glancing off the people sitting in groups of two. At the far end of the bakery, she hears two girls giggle. To her far left, there's a couple murmuring, and Malia has to concentrate so as not to accidentally hear what they're saying. The door to the bakery opening is a welcomed distraction, and Malia turns to stare, automatically. 

The Asian girl who walks in is shorter than Malia, with long dark hair, big brown eyes, and a hint of flowery perfume that threatens to give Malia a headache. The girl looks around wide eyed, her eyes zeroing in on the couple in the back. She tenses when she sees the man, her right hand clenching halfway to her sweater pocket. 

Malia groans. She can already see the fight that's going to break out, the crying, the yelling, the shattering of perfectly good cups.

"Excuse me," Malia says, as the girl walks past the counter. "Hey. You."

The girl pauses. "Who?" she asks, frowning as she points at herself. "Me?"

Malia nods. "Yeah," she says. "My shift is over in twenty minutes—"

"Oh," the girl blushes. "I'm not—"

"Do you mind not fighting with your boyfriend until I'm gone," Malia says, talking right over the girl. 

The girl stares, a little apprehensive, but mostly shocked. 

"Yes, I know," Malia says, rolling her eyes. "Manners. Politeness. Don't beat the shit out of your boyfriend until _after_ my shift. Please."

The girl keeps looking at Malia, as though unsure what she's supposed to do next. "I'm Kira?" she says, shrugging helplessly.

Malia takes that as Kira's way of agreeing and gestures at her nametag. Kira smiles at her, but the clock hits two o'clock and Malia turns away. She goes into the back, the smell of vanilla and freshly baked pies hitting her dead on even in the little corridor that leads to the kitchen.

"I'm leaving," Malia calls.

She hears Cora Hale, the boss's sister, whisper something about "lucky bitches." Malia grins as she gets her jacket out of the lockers along the hallway. She's just shrugging on her jacket when Cora comes out of the kitchen. She makes Malia try the pie, and then Laura comes down from the office upstairs and hands Malia a box of pink bow-shaped cookies.

Malia escapes through the back door of the kitchen, half an hour later, the door letting out into an alley between the bakery and the diner next door. Malia steps out over the garbage bags and the tire iron Laura made Cora throw out yesterday. Cora had wanted to give it to Derek as a birthday present, but Laura hadn't wanted it in her kitchen. Cora had never picked it back up, after. 

Malia picks it up, mostly out of curiosity, balancing the box of cookies on her left hand. She shifts the tire iron until it fits more securely in her hand and shrugs, glancing down the end of the alley. 

She stops mid-step towards the street, all her muscles tensing and freezing her in place. Malia turns her head slowly, trying not to make any noise, part of her aware that she's already made too much noise coming out of the bakery. She takes a deep breath, the coppery scent of blood setting off a painful pang of hunger in her stomach. 

Malia holds off a whimper, drops the box of cookies, and gets a better grip on the tire iron. "Okay," she says.

The sound of saliva and tearing flesh breaks off abruptly. 

Malia considers running. She has Netflix at home, an early shift tomorrow, and she hasn't eaten in awhile. She doesn't want to wake up tomorrow, covered in blood and afraid to turn on the news. Malia doesn't do that anymore. Not since she turned fourteen, four years ago, and finally realized what was happening to her. 

The low growl to her left interrupts her thoughts and sounds a warning. Malia stretches out her neck, rolls her shoulders, and steps out into the middle of the alley. The tire iron will be mostly useless against the beast crouched in the shadows at the end of the alley, but holding the tire iron makes Malia feel better. 

The wolf growls again, hunching over the bloody mess below it. Malia tries not to think too hard about who it might be.

"Okay," she says. "Let's just do this so I can go home."

The wolf at the end of the alley moves forward to stand, and Malia sees that it's a half-transformed werewolf, still mostly human, except for the fangs and the bright yellow eyes. The werewolf takes another step forward, it's face registering as the face of the man that Kira was looking at earlier. Malia's breath catches as she glances at the body behind the werewolf. Of the three werewolves she's accidentally stopped in the last four years, this is the first one she recognizes, even vaguely. The victim too, if that really is Kira.

"What the shit?" Malia says, tightening her grip on the tire iron. "Fuck."

The werewolf growls, this time lower. It bares its teeth, takes a running leap, and jumps at Malia.

" _Fuck_ ," she says, as she swings the tire iron towards the werewolf's head.

There's a dull thump before the werewolf snatches the tire iron and tosses it behind him. Malia bares her teeth and puts her hands out to block the werewolf when it launches at her again. She catches its throat against her right forearm, its dripping fangs inches from her face.

"This is why I stay out of it," she says, through gritted teeth. "I fucking hate rogue wolves."

She shoves the werewolf away, the muscles in her arms straining against the lunging wolf. Malia gets a foot of space and wriggles around, trying to avoid the werewolf's claws. She lets out a yell of outrage when one of its claws catches her down her arm. The scent of her own blood is thick in the air, and she's just about to give up and go home, when she hears a car tearing down the street towards her.

She curses under her breath and tries to shove the werewolf away far enough to give her a head start. She'll run slow enough for the wolf to chase her and deal with it once she's away from the people in the street. But just as she's turning, the werewolf catches her legs and she goes tumbling down, the wolf ready to tear at her throat.

"Shit," she says, knowing that transforming is her only way out.

She'll just have to hope she can still remember that she's not supposed to eat humans while she's this hungry. She closes her eyes, her body spasming with the beginnings of her transformation, when the car screeches to a halt just outside of the alley. Malia hears a car door opening, a low curse, then the sound of a bullet flying through the air. 

The werewolf above her goes limp against her, blood seeping through Malia's shirt and jeans. She shoves the wolf's body off her, reins in her transformation, and jumps up. She spins, ready to fight, when she catches sight of the black BMW. Kira hangs out of the open back door, gun in hand.

"Come with me if you want to live," Kira grins.

Malia glances back at the wolf behind her, her own blood soaked clothing, back at the car. 

Then, she runs.

*

"So," Erica says, draping herself over Kira's back. "That didn't quite go as planned."

Kira had just watched the girl from the bakery, Malia, jump over the twenty foot wall blocking the alley. 

"Maybe she just doesn't like Schwarzenegger," Allison says, from the driver's seat. 

Kira groans. "I thought she was asking me out in the bakery, and then I went and shot her."

"She's a werewolf," Erica says. "She was probably asking you out so she could _eat you_."

Kira feels Erica's laugh along her back. She hears Allison getting out of the car, and Lydia's quiet breathing over the earpiece in Kira's ear. 

"You just shot the werewolf that was trying to eat her," Allison says, coming to stand in front of Kira and kissing her forehead. "You didn't shoot her. You saved her life."

"Yeah," Erica agrees, slipping out of the car, over Kira's legs.

Kira sighs, and follows after Erica, tucking the gun into her belt as she glances around the street for signs of Lydia. Their car is parked right outside of the alley, and though Kira used a silencer on her gun, she doesn't doubt that someone must have heard Malia's earlier yell. Still, the street seems mostly empty, except for the occasional car that speeds by. Even the people walking on this side of the street don't pay attention to Kira, Allison, or Erica.

"Did you put up guards?" Allison asks Lydia.

The three of them hear Lydia's sniff. "Please," she says. "As if you'd ever need to ask that question."

Allison smiles and heads down the alley, over to the body the werewolf had been eating. Erica stops by the werewolf. Kira turns back to the street, as Erica sets the body on fire. No one will see the fire either, because Lydia's safeguards always hold. Even if anyone were to bump into them, they'd just keep going, unaware that they'd bumped into an invisible person.

"Do we know who the victim was?" Kira asks.

"Hayden Romero," Allison says. "The wolf got a chunk of her, but she's still alive."

Erica whistles lowly. "New wolf," she says. "And so close to the full moon."

"Scott will know what to do with her," Lydia says.

"Right," Erica says, dusting off her black jeans. "Let's get her into the car and back to Scott, before Kira has to shoot her, too.

"Speaking of," Allison says. "We're going to have to go after that girl you asked out, Kira."

Kira blushes. "She asked _me_ out," she says.

Allison grins, motioning over Erica. Together, they lift Hayden Romero off the floor and settle her into the backseat of their BMW. Kira climbs in after her and puts Hayden's head on her lap. She pulls out her gun, too.

"We need cleaners," Allison says into her mouthpiece.

"The spells should hold until we can get someone over there," Lydia says. 

Allison nods, because even though they can't see Lydia, Lydia can most definitely see _them_. Allison slides back into the driver's seat, as Erica buckles her seatbelt and lowers her window.

They speed off, Allison swerving around the other cars on the street. They stop a block away, in front of the Beacon Hills Library. Lydia climbs down from one of the stone lions guarding the steps, and heads for the car. She glances at the backseat, at Kira and Hayden, and then walks around to Erica's side of the car.

"Move over," Lydia says, shaking out the skirt of her sage, flowered dress.

Erica grins up at her, throws the door open, and pats her legs. "Sit on me," she says.

Lydia narrows her eyes at Erica, but steps in, carefully placing herself on Erica's lap. "I'm only doing this because I know you don't mean any of your sexual innuendos."

Erica wraps her arms around Lydia's waist. "Yeah, well," she says. "I say them _specifically_ because I don't mean them."

"And because you like the way Kira blushes even though she knows you don't mean them," Lydia adds. 

"That too," Erica agrees. 

Kira tries very hard not to react, but from the way Allison is laughing, she can tell she didn't do a good enough job.

*

Malia gets home at three fifteen, exhausted from running through side streets, and backtracking to make sure Kira and her friends in the BMW weren't following her home. The bleeding stopped sometime after the sixth or seventh block. Now Malia's clothes are just stiff with dried blood and sweat. The scent makes her even hungrier than she was when she left the bakery, so she goes straight to her kitchen, bypassing the coat rack in the tiny hallway that ends in the living room and veers to the left into the kitchen.

She yanks her refrigerator door open, rolls a slice of American cheese into a slice of turkey and eats that. Then, she takes out her leftover chicken, the stack of pancakes Laura had given her yesterday, and the gallon of milk. She eats it all cold, standing in front of her marble countertop, across from her stove and sink.

"Fucking hate werewolves," she says to her empty apartment.

She can hear her neighbors slamming open their apartment door, and further down, in the apartment next to that one, someone is singing in the shower. 

Malia groans, imagining the steam from her own shower. She's too hungry, still, for anything besides devouring her leftovers. But she makes a note to take a long bath. She's probably going to have to skip her Netflix marathon, which sucks, but she needs to get something close to raw meat in her stomach if she's going to be able to get through the full moon in two days. 

She has nothing in her fridge, the supermarket is a half-hour walk away, she's dirty, and starving. 

Malia sighs in frustration through a mouthful of pancakes and chicken. "I fucking _hate_ werewolves," she tells her kitchen counter.

"That's funny," comes a voice from Malia's left. "Aren't _you_ a werewolf?"

Malia turns her back to the counter and growls before she can stop herself. Her eyes dart to her right, but there's nothing there besides her kitchen table, too big just for her, with three chairs too many. She glances to her left, past her refrigerator and out into the hall. She's alone in her kitchen.

"Hellhound?" she asks.

She hears a laugh, pitched lower than the first voice. 

"Two hellhounds?" Malia says, trying not to roll her eyes. "Really? Just for me? I might be flattered."

"Not hellhounds, darling," says the first voice. "Just witches."

Malia edges away from the voice before she remembers that she's turning her back on the kitchen-to-hallway door. She isn't particularly afraid of witches. It's just that witches tend to hang in large groups, especially when around werewolves, and Malia isn't exactly healed or full enough, yet, for more than maybe three of them.

"I hate witches, too," Malia says, anyway, wrinkling her nose. "You stink."

"I take offense," says a third voice. "Lydia, please."

Malia hears a quiet rustling, followed by a burst of air. Her hair gets into her mouth, still tasting of chemicals from the light brown dye she used last week. She should probably get different shampoo.

"Sorry," says a fourth and familiar voice.

"Kira?" Malia asks, her shoulders relaxing without Malia's permission. "What?"

"Hi," Kira says, from Malia's right, like all the other voices. "Give Lydia a second."

Malia rolls her shoulders, clenches and unclenches her fists, then leans against her counter. Her stomach rumbles in protest, but something is finally happening to Malia's right. She can see four shapes fading in and out. It smells like burning sage and wet dirt, the scent thick, but not unpleasant.

The four of them appear at the same time, all of them about Malia's age. The blonde is closest to Malia's stove, her lipstick bright red, her leather jacket pressed to Malia's wall. The one next to the blonde is dark haired and pale skinned. There's something about the way she stands—hand straight down, as though her crossbow is too heavy for her—that sends shivers down Malia's spine. A quick glance at the redhead and Kira let's Malia know that the dark haired girl is the most dangerous, and obviously the leader.

"No need to look so surprised," the redhead says. "They're just invisibility spells. Same as the ones in the alley."

"But I could see you in the alley," Malia says, her eyes darting from the redhead, to their leader, to the blonde, to Kira.

"Yes, well, those were invisibility spells aimed at humans," the redhead sniffs. "We wanted the werewolf to see us coming."

"Okay," Malia says, trying to suppress a shiver. She's hungrier than she's supposed to be, and it's making her head feel heavy. "I'm going to assume there are more of you I can't see, so I'm not going to try anything."

The redhead smirks.

"Yet," Malia says, glaring. "But I do want to know what you're doing here, and I also want you to leave."

"That cut from before, down your arm," their leader says. "It looked nasty."

Malia shrugs. "Wasn't that deep."

The leader nods, her face blank, but her eyes on Malia. "I'm Allison," she says. "The blond is Erica. The redhead is Lydia, and you know Kira."

Allison says the last part with a glance at Kira, and Erica outright laughs. Malia looks quickly at Kira, but Kira is staring at Lydia, her face bright red. 

"You know," Allison says, the amusement clear in her eyes, even though her voice never changes. "Because you asked her out."

Kira goes very still.

"Oh," Malia says, honest, because Allison caught her off guard. "I don't date."

"Because of the werewolf thing?" Erica asks.

"No," Malia shrugs. “It's just not my thing.”

"Mine either," Lydia sighs. 

Kira finally moves again, and Malia glances at her briefly, before going back to watching the four of them. 

"You know," Kira says, softly. "Invisibility spells don't work the way you think way do. The longer you hold them, the more energy it takes. Lydia is strong, but if there were more people here, that means she'd have to have cast at least two spells, since removing one would reveal all the people under that one spell. She's still new at spell casting, so if she were still holding a spell, she wouldn't be so relaxed."

Lydia opens her mouth in outrage, but when Malia looks back at Kira, there's a small smile on her face.

"Good to know. What about her?" Malia says, nodding in Erica's direction.

"Weak left hook, and she leaves her right side unguarded."

"Okay," Malia says, rolling out her shoulders. "I'm going to try something now."

She hears the click of a safety, and grins when she sees both Allison and Kira with their weapons pointed at her.

"You don't look very well," Erica says.

Malia's eyes dart to her, then back at the crossbow and gun trained on her. She's hungry, but her throat is dry, too, and she can feel the beginnings of a headache. 

"I'm good," Malia say.

But now that she's thinking about it, she can feel the way her legs are shaking. She doesn't think she can move away from the counter. She grins anyway, filling her lungs with the scents in her kitchen. 

"The werewolf that attacked Hayden Romero," Allison says, her voice hard. "Were you with him?"

Malia glares. " _No_ ," she says.

"We believe you," Erica says, pushing away from the wall. 

Malia looks at Kira.

"We do," Lydia says. 

But Malia is still staring at Kira. 

"What is it?" Kira asks.

Malia takes another slow breath. Her entire body is shaking now, with the effort to keep back the gnawing hunger she's felt since coming home. It's worse with four people so close to her, and with the full moon days away. 

"Kira," Malia says, the name awkward and unfamiliar to Malia's tongue. 

"What's wrong?" Kira asks.

Malia takes a shallow breath, her eyes half closing as the scent of human flesh washes over her. "I need you to shoot me," she says.

Four voices talk over each other, too many sounds, too many scents. Malia shudders, her fangs sliding down over her bottom lip as her mouth fills with saliva.

"Malia?" Kira asks, tentatively.

Malia lunges.

*

Hayden Romero wakes up snarling, claws extended and fangs dripping. She lunges at Deaton, barely missing him as Scott wraps his arms around her waist. He lifts her off the floor, as she thrashes against him and her claws dig into his skin.

"Shit," Stiles whispers, from his corner of the room.

Deaton stands and takes a step closer to Hayden, confident that Scott will keep her from hurting him. Scott does his best to keep Hayden in the circle of his arms, without touching her more than necessary.

"Is she okay?" he asks.

Stiles scoffs. " _Okay?_. Scott, look at her. She looks like some freaky zombie werewolf."

Deaton raises his eyebrows, but keeps watching as Hayden tries her best to bite him. "Can you hold her arms?" Deaton asks.

"Yeah," Scott says. "But you and Stiles might want to wait outside."

"Bye," Stiles says, heading for the door.

Deaton sighs, but he's the first out the clinic door. Stiles edges around Scott, and even though Hayden makes to lunge at him too, Stiles darts in quickly and presses a kiss to the first part of Scott he can reach. Scott grins at him.

"Oh stop," Stiles says, and even though Scott hears the door closing behind him, he knows Stiles won't go far. Not even if Scott wanted him to go.

"Okay, Hayden," Scott says. "You'll be fine. I promise. We're going to help you out."

Hayden growls, but she seems calmer now that Stiles and Deaton are out of sight. Scott loosens his grip experimentally and Hayden sags in his arms. He keeps a hand on her right arm, as he wraps the other arm around Hayden, pinning her left arm to her side. 

"If you're uncomfortable, just, um, let me know, okay?"

She says nothing.

"You can come in now," Scott calls. 

He's got a good grip on her, but she still yanks him in the direction of the door when Stiles stumbles in. 

"Woah," Stiles says. "She doesn't look good."

Deaton grimaces. "I think I know what this is," he says.

"What?" Scott asks.

Deaton does nothing for a moment as he looks at Hayden. "She was calmer when it was just you two."

Scott nods.

"Because he's an alpha?" Stiles asks.

"Could be," Deaton says. He smiles at Scott. "Or it could just be Scott."

Scott tries to pat Hayden reassuringly, but he's not sure she understand what he's doing in her state. 

"I think," Deaton says, going over to his medicine cabinet and coming back with a scalpel instead. "I think this is wolfsbane poisoning."

"That's great," Stiles says. "We just stab her with wolfsbane, then."

Deaton hums in agreement. "Hold her still," he tells Scott.

"What are you going to do to her?" Scott asks, curling his shoulders protectively without meaning to. 

"I need to check what type of wolfsbane this is," Deaton says. "She'll be fine."

Scott nods, as Deaton reaches out for Hayden's shoulder. She growls when his scalpel touches her skin, but goes still as he makes the cut. There's a soft hiss as yellowish-green smoke seeps out of the cut on Hayden's arm. 

"That's what I was afraid of," Deaton says, sadly.

"What?" Stiles asks. "What are you afraid of?"

"This type of wolfsbane only grows in Japan. But even there, it's very rare. It would take days for me to get my hands on some," Deaton shakes his head. "I don't know if she has days."

"We have to try," Scott says immediately.

"Yes, we do," Deaton says. "But that's not the only problem."

Hayden snarls.

"What is it?" Scott asks.

"She was bitten, scratched," Deaton says. "That's how she was infected."

"Yeah, but Kira got the werewolf that bit her," Scott says.

"Shit," Stiles says, as Deaton nods. "The girl. The one Kira kept talking about."

"The one the girls are going after right now," Scott says, slowly.

" _Fuck_."

*

Allison shoots her crossbow without hesitation, the tip of her arrow embedding itself right above Malia's chest. The impact pushes Malia back and gives the rest of them enough time to react.

Lydia grabs onto Kira's arm and drags her backwards, around the other side of the table. Erica jumps in front of Allison, claws extended, growling out her warning. Allison jumps back, up onto the table, her crossbow trained on Malia, over Erica's head. 

Malia snarls, crouched low on the floor, her eyes yellow, pupils blown wide. 

"Fuck," Allison says. "Get Kira out of here."

At Kira's name, Malia jerks back. She takes a step towards the hallway, just as Allison remembers the second opening to the right of the table. There's a curtain over the entrance.

" _Shit. Move._ " she yells at Lydia and Kira, turning right as Malia disappears into the hallway. 

Someone's cell phone rings, and Allison wishes very much that she were the kind of person who killed first and asked questions later. 

"Hello?" Lydia asks from behind Allison.

"Kira?" Allison asks, keeping her eyes trained on the door in front of her.

She hears Kira standing up behind her, the scrape of chairs across linoleum floors. Then Kira's hand is warm on Allison's shoulder, and Allison exhales. 

"She's contagious," Lydia says, sounding bored. "Deaton says to tell Erica that she can't be bitten."

"Great," Erica says. "Amazing."

Allison grits her teeth. They have to watch Erica, but Allison can't just go barreling through the door in front of her. For all Allison knows, Malia is waiting for her right on the other side, and Allison can't fight a werewolf hand to hand. Logically, Erica should be on this side, and Allison should be watching the uncovered door by the refrigerator. 

"Allison," Kira whispers right by Allison's ear. 

"I know," Allison says. She turns to Lydia for a brief second. "Can you do anything to protect Erica?"

"I think so," Lydia says. "A protection spell. Something like a shield, but you'll have to hurry. I can't hold it for long."

"I don't need that long," Erica says. Allison can almost see Erica's smug grin.

"Do it," Allison says.

Kira squeezes Allison's shoulder. 

"And try not to hurt Malia too much," Allison adds.

Kira wraps her arms around Allison's waist, gives her a quick hug, and steps back. "I'm going to stay with Lydia."

"Good," Lydia says. "Because I'm basically useless when I'm casting protections spells."

"You'll get better," Kira says.

Allison can't see Lydia, but she can imagine Lydia's eye roll and her small head shake. Allison finds herself incredibly fond of the people she works with. 

"Okay, Allison," Erica says. "Switch with me."

Allison nods and then the four of them move as one, Kira aiming her gun at the door Allison was guarding, as Allison slides past her. She drops down to the floor, stepping in front of Erica, as Erica steps back briefly into Lydia's touch. 

"Erica," Allison says. "You have that door. I'll go through this one. We meet in the living room."

Allison doesn't wait for Erica's answer. She lifts her crossbow, her footsteps light as she heads out the door and into the hallway. A quick glance to right shows the hallway to be clear. She turns left, steps into the living room. A sharp turn to the left again and she's face to face with Erica. They nod at each other, walking side by side past the living room, down a second hallway, and to the only open door at the far end. They find Malia bleeding and cowering underneath the bed in the open room.

" _Oh_ , poor baby," Erica whispers, crouching down.

At the sound of Erica's voice, Malia swipes a hand out. Erica snatches her hand back and Malia seems to calm down the further away Erica gets. Allison kneels down, her right hand gripping her crossbow tightly. 

Malia watches her with razor sharp focus.

"Hey," Allison says. "You're all right."

Malia whimpers. 

"Come on," Allison says. "We're going to help you."

Malia shifts forward, each movement seeming to cause her pain. Allison winces in sympathy even as her left hand reaches for the gun tucked into her belt at her back. 

"It's okay," Allison says, both to Malia and Erica. "We'll be fine."

Malia edges out from under the bed, her light brown hair sticking up in different directions. Her black work shirt has two large holes, a set from the other werewolf's claws, and one from Allison's arrow. 

The three of them stay perfectly still once Malia is out from underneath the bed. Allison's left hand is wrapped firmly around the gun behind her, but the other is out towards Malia, a peace offering. They stare at each other, Erica keeping her distance, as Allison tries to come up with a way to get them all out of here without having to shoot anyone else.

Then, "Allison?" comes Kira's voice from outside the bedroom.

Allison inhales, everything seeming to slow down. 

Malia moves. 

Allison lifts her hand. 

She aims. 

She fires.

*

When Malia opens her eyes, the first thing she registers is pain from her throat to her stomach.

"Ow," she says.

She leans up, groans at the pull of muscles, and again when she spot Kira at the foot of her bed. 

"You shot me," Malia says.

"Actually," comes Allison's voice from behind Malia. " _I_ shot you."

There's scattered laughter from around Malia. She sighs and drops down into the light blue sheets on the bed. The ceiling above her matches the white of the walls, which combined with the sunlight streaming through the two windows to her left, just makes everything too bright. 

"I hate everyone in this room," Malia says. "What happened?"

They tell her, with Erica mostly laughing and making faces at Malia. Lydia stays next to Malia, by her head, her hands not quite touching Malia, but the pain down Malia's front fades the longer Lydia is there. Malia eventually gives up and settles her temple along the back of Lydia's hand. No one mentions it

"And then Allison shot you," Kira is saying. 

"We brought you back here, talked to Deaton, and turns out there's a whole bunch of other shit we need to take care of, too," Allison says. "But you had wolfsbane poisoning, and Kira's mother knows a witch who carries hundreds of antidotes."

"Millions," Erica says. "To everything."

"She sold us the antidote for you and Hayden. You'll be fine." Kira says, smiling at Malia.

"The problem is that the witch sold wolfsbane to an alpha," Lydia says. "So now there's an alpha running out there, purposefully poisoning werewolves." 

Malia exhales hard through her nose. "Okay," she says. "I know how this goes. Someone is going to say something inspiring to try to convince me to help, but I really need to sleep and not get involved."

The four of them look at each other again, and Malia tries very hard not to understand the looks they're giving each other. She's not the kind of person who saves people. Malia already has enough trouble keeping herself in control. She's not Erica, and especially not Allison. She attacked Kira, and for some reason she's already protective of Lydia. But Malia doesn't belong in their group. 

"Actually," Allison says, with a smirk at Kira. "We were kind of just trying to ask you out."

Kira groans and buries her head in her hands.

"Except with the alpha running around, it's going to be kind of busy," Erica says. 

"So that was just a warning," Lydia says, running her fingers through Malia's hair. "We're going to be very flaky girlfriends for a while."

Malia groans. "Stop lying," she says.

"But we like you," Kira says, peeking at Malia from the foot of the bed. 

Malia tries to glare at her, but the movement pulls something on her shoulder and she has to lean back down against Lydia again. 

"Let me sleep," Malia says. "But for the record, I, maybe, like you guys, too."

**Author's Note:**

> I listed canon-typical violence, but just in case, the werewolves in this fic are mentioned attacking and biting and maybe eating humans. And although there's no scene where this is shown explicitly, there is a scene where a werewolf bites a person and there's a line about blood and flesh and stuff.


End file.
